


Adjustments

by vanillalime



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Community: hardtime100, Freedom, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7069849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Chris Keller has been paroled from Oz, he struggles with the realization that life with Toby is a little different than he'd always planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal in October 2014. Written for the Hardtime100 challenge prompt "Freedom."

_Adjust_. It was Toby’s new favorite word.  
  
Chris had been out of Oz for less than a month, but already he was sick and tired of hearing it.  
  
Chris had spent a long, long time imagining how things would be once he got out. Toby and his father’s old firm had worked hard to make his release possible: appealing his convictions, plea-bargaining until he got a sentence with a realistic possibility of parole, and encouraging and tracking his (supposed) "model prisoner" behavior, thereby setting the stage for his parole to eventually be granted.  
  
Although the entire process had taken many years, the end result was obviously well worth the wait. Chris was finally free (and he would be forever grateful), but he didn’t need time to  _adjust_  to anything. He had known long ago exactly how he wanted things, and he wanted them that way, right now, all the time.  
  
In his opinion, it was Toby who needed to adjust.  
  
In retrospect, what they had done immediately after his release had perhaps been a mistake. Chris had initially enjoyed the irony that, after being locked up for the last 18 years, he had spent his first week of freedom in one place, never leaving it, never once venturing outside. Granted, that place had been the Presidential Suite at an exclusive, five-star hotel with the softest fucking king-sized bed ever, but still.  
  
It had been heaven’s version of the New Year’s Eve lockdown, and Chris had thought he’d be happy to remain there forever. But the proverbial honeymoon had to end, and Toby needed to go back to his regular life, to his job and his house and his family responsibilities. And while Toby had brought Chris with him, his life wasn’t exactly revolving around Chris. At least, not as much as it should be.  
  
Like today. Toby had sat Chris down and informed him of his sudden plan to visit his mother, a plan that included spending the night at the Beecher estate. He patiently explained how she was getting on in years, and it was important to show her how happy he was. Chris found himself listening once again to one of Toby’s long-winded lectures, describing how Chris needed to  _adjust_  to his new life, and that he should stay home, by himself. Soon, Toby said, his mother would have a nice family dinner, where everyone could meet Chris.  
  
Toby promised that they would do something special together tomorrow, just the two of them, after he returned home.  
  
Chris put on his best brave face and joked about the party he was going to throw. When Toby accused him of being pissed, he denied it and wished Toby a good trip. Toby had kissed him good-bye, and Chris had waved to him as he drove away.  
  
An hour later, Chris was sitting at a bar, wishing he had shoved Toby's adjustments up his ass.  
  
He used his third beer to chase down a greasy cheeseburger ordered from the kitchen. As he signaled the bartender for another bottle, he wondered what kind of fancy food Toby was eating for dinner. He took some satisfaction in the knowledge that, whatever the meal was, Toby wasn’t enjoying any beer with it.  
  
With a full stomach and a slight buzz, Chris began to relax a little, and started to soak up the bar’s atmosphere of chatter, laughter, lights, and music. Maybe Toby needed to realize that he should be adjusting his own life to what Chris wanted, and not the other way around. Maybe Toby needed to be reminded of how important Chris was to him. Or maybe Chris should show Toby that he didn’t need him so much after all.  
  
Chris was wallowing in these thoughts when a warm body slid up next to him and leaned against the bar. He turned and saw a gorgeous, twenty-something, blond woman in a tight black business suit, trying to catch the bartender’s eye. Chris took the opportunity to check her out: pristine fair complexion, perfectly perky breasts, tiny waist, nice ass, and serious legs that seemed to last forever. She was nearly as tall as Chris, and she was wearing flats.  
  
Chris smiled to himself. Yes, maybe he should show Toby that he was adjusting to life outside of Oz just fine.  
  
Chris directed the bartender toward the young woman, and she asked for the tab for her group. Chris smiled in his most charming way and said, "Shouldn’t you be in Milan on a runway right now?"  
  
Chris prepared himself for a multitude of reactions. He may be rusty, but he had once been a pro at this, and you never forgot how the dance goes.  
  
This woman just looked at him and laughed. "If that’s supposed to be a pick-up line, it’s the worst one I’ve ever heard," she said.  
  
_And I bet you’ve heard a lot of them._  Chris innocently shrugged his shoulders. "Not a line, just an observation," he explained.  
  
"Good. Because  _you_ …" she began, before leaning closer, as if to tell a secret, "… are old enough to be my father." She pulled back with an irrepressible smile of her own.  
  
Ouch. Chris had forgotten how time stood still while you’re in prison. In his mind, he was still the same 36-year-old man he was when he was sent to Oz. His dick was certainly acting as if he was 36 years old.  
  
Never mind. If he could seduce a post-menopausal nun while in prison, he shouldn’t have any problem with a young urban professional during happy hour, even if she was half his age.  
  
"I’m just sayin’, you could be one of those fancy supermodels. There must be some serious height genes floating around in your family’s gene pool."  
  
The woman threw her head back and laughed again. She was certainly vivacious. Or drunk. Either of which would make for a great time in bed.  
  
"Yes, but believe it or not, I was small for my age until I hit puberty," she said as she paid the bartender. Smiling, she stood up straight and looked back at Chris. "Then I started growing, and I almost didn’t stop," she joked.  
  
Oh God, was  _she_  flirting with  _him_  now, or was she so naive that she didn’t realize how she was coming across?  
  
The woman turned away from Chris and glanced around the bar. "I wonder where all my friends went," she commented, suddenly looking a little anxious. "They wouldn't have left without me."  
  
Chris feverishly hoped that her friends had all dropped dead, or at least had abandoned her after sticking her with the bill. He didn’t need any obstacles in his way while convincing this woman to come back to his place. Toby's place. Their place. His brain began to formulate a vision of Toby arriving home in the morning, discovering Chris in bed with a beautiful blond who wasn’t him. Chris wondered how Toby would adjust to  _that_.  
  
"I’m sure your friends are fine," he purred in his most reassuring voice. "Probably in the ladies’ room. Besides, isn’t it a little early to be callin’ it quits for the night?"  
  
"We’d already spent time at Dooley’s before coming here."  
  
"Oh, is Dooley’s nice?" Chris asked, looking to prolong the conversation. "I only recently moved here," he explained. "I’ve been thinkin’ of doing a knight’s tour of all the area bars, tryin’ to find the one that’s a perfect fit."  
  
Quickly, the woman turned back to him, eyes wide with interest. "Did you just make a 'knight’s tour' reference?" she asked excitedly. "Are you a chess player?"  
  
_And, checkmate._  
  
Chris chuckled and gave her a sheepish grin. "Why, yes, I am. I used to play all the time in… where I used to live. I’ve been looking for a good opponent here. Someone challenging," he said with a wink.  
  
And, with that, they were off to the races. They compared their abilities, analyzed different strategies, discussed special moves, and reminisced about learning the game. Chris was impressed with the brains behind the beauty, and she seemed equally excited to talk about a common interest with him.  
  
Eventually, Chris moved in for the kill. "I have a beautiful chess set back at my place in Drummond Square, not far from here. Why don’t we head back there? We could demonstrate our strengths and weaknesses to each other."  
  
_And after I show you my moves on the board, I’ll show you how I move in bed_ , he added to himself.  
  
The woman's face lit up and she grabbed his arm. "Oh, I’m familiar with Drummond Square!" she exclaimed. "It’s a beautiful neighborhood."  
  
_And that means you think I am an upstanding gentleman with a lot money_ , thought Chris.  
  
"Well, let me pay up," Chris said. "Then we can… " His voice trailed away as another young woman stumbled up to them.  
  
"Here you aresh," slurred the new arrival. "We’ve been standing outshide on the shidewalk, waiting for you!"  
  
"Oh, sorry, I got caught up paying the tab!" the woman explained. "I’ll be right out."  
  
She turned back to Chris with a crestfallen look. "I’m sorry, I have to go."  
  
Chris tried to hide his frustration. "You can’t leave them?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head with a sigh. "No, I’m the designated driver."  
  
The woman bit her lip and hesitated, then reached into her purse. She pulled out a business card and handed it to Chris. "Maybe you could call me sometime, and we could get together for a match," she suggested. " _Just_  a match," she clarified with a smile.  
  
"Of course, yeah, thanks," Chris said, taking the card. Then she was gone.  
  
Chris turned back to the bar with a short huff. He had only taken her card to be polite; it was a revenge fuck he wanted, not a fucking chess partner. Shit, if he wanted to play chess, he would play with Toby. He went to flick her card into the wastebasket behind the bar, but curiosity got the best of him. He wondered what Little Miss Sunshine did for a living. He glanced down and read what it said:  
  
_Holly Beecher, Attorney-at-Law_  
  
Chris barely made it to the men’s room, where he spent the next half hour vomiting into the toilet.

*~*~*~*~*

The following morning, Toby opened the door into the house and was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of freshly baked cookies. Oatmeal raisin, if he wasn't mistaken. He detected something else, too. Fabric softener, maybe? Was Chris doing laundry?  
  
Toby heard a metallic, clanking noise coming from the kitchen. As he made his way toward the sound, he walked through the living room and took note of the recently vacuumed carpet and general tidiness of the room. He entered the kitchen just as Chris withdrew from underneath the sink, holding a wrench in one hand.  
  
"Hey, you’re back!" Chris exclaimed. He waved the wrench in the direction of the sink. "I just finished fixin’ that leaky faucet that’s been buggin’ you."  
  
Toby selected a cookie off the cooling rack that sat on a gleaming, spotless countertop. "Looks like you were busy while I was gone," he remarked with a smile.  
  
Chris shrugged. "Just doin’ my best to adjust to domesticated life," he replied.  
  
_Maybe this is the answer_ , thought Toby to himself.  _Give him a list of things to do around the house._  
  
"If we’re not careful, the neighbors will begin to think that you’re my prag," he joked.  
  
Chris laughed. "Let 'em think what they want," he said as he washed his hands. "Everything go okay at your mother’s?"  
  
"Yes, she was really pleased to see me."  _And it gave me a chance to breathe._  "But I’m glad I’m back home," he quickly added.  
  
"Me, too."  
  
"I’ve been looking forward to spending the day together," Toby said. "It’s so beautiful outside—I was thinking we could go for a bicycle ride in the park. Maybe grab lunch from a hot dog vendor, watch the old men play chess…"  
  
"No!" Chris interrupted. He cleared his throat before continuing. "No, I was thinkin’ that we should go to the art museum."  
  
"The art museum? Are you serious?"  
  
"Absolutely. Fuck, Tobe, I spent 18 years lookin’ at gray walls, centerfolds, and whatever Dogs-Playing-Poker shit McManus had hangin’ on his walls. It’d be nice to look at something classy for a change."  
  
"Alright," Toby agreed. "I’d like that, too." He paused before continuing. "I must say, I'm really impressed with your efforts to adjust to..."  
  
Then, suddenly, Chris's mouth was on his, and his hands were everywhere, so Toby didn't say anything else for a long time.


End file.
